“It was just like walking down the beach into the sea. As the boat went over we climbed over the rail and slid down the stanchions onto the plates, and walked into the sea.”
In this matter-of-fact manner did J. F. Duncan, of London, England, describe how he left his cabin on the promenade deck, in his pajama suit, and how he parted company with the ship.
When asked what he had to say about the disaster, he replied: “There is nothing to tell; it was all over in fifteen minutes. The signals woke me up and I lay in my berth amidships on the starboard side. That was the side the collier ran into us, but she was a low boat, and so my cabin was not crushed in as were some of those immediately below me. Directly the collision occurred the Empress began to list, and I immediately went on deck.
“When I once got out of the cabin I could not get back, but fortunately I had taken my overcoat out of my baggage the previous night, and I slipped this on.
KNEW IT WAS THE END
“It was pretty rotten on deck. We simply stood there, we knew we were going down, there was no question about that from the first, and it was no good struggling. The poor women were hysterical, but there was no chance to do anything for them. When the steamer heeled over we walked into the water, and I struck out for the rescuing steamer, which was standing about half a mile off.
“Somehow or another the life-boats appeared and began picking us up. I was in the water a jolly long time: it seemed like an hour and I believe it was an hour. It was terribly cold and I am stiff all over this morning. I eventually got into a life-boat and was taken on board the collier. They told me there were fifty-three on the life-boat—it was quite full up. Dr. Grant was on the collier, and he patched us up until the Lady Evelyn took us ashore.
“LIKE A LOT OF INDIANS”
“We were like a lot of Red Indians when we got on the wharf—all wrapped up in blankets. I never saw such a big supply from so small a ship. They looked after us like princes at Rimouski. The local people were most kind—in fact, when you see me put on my clothes you won’t think I had ever been shipwrecked. They got the clothes from the stores and fitted us all out—it was the most wonderful place in the world.
“Let me introduce you to my toilet,” continued Mr. Duncan, as he held up a tooth-brush and a tube of tooth paste. “I do want a bath.”